Sweet Disposition
by love at third sight
Summary: Kallen is very good at maintaining a relationship with a dead man. Poet-prose.


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**author's note: First time delving into this poetical, short prose. I'm not sure I did Kallen or Gino justice, but I tried. :P**

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**Sweet Disposition**

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**Poem One - **_The beginning of an end of an end_

If there was one thing I said was impossible to execute it would have been

true love

because really, it was relative. It had no variables

no sense at all, and somehow the right people ended up with the wrong person.

For example, my sweet

sensitive

charming

Japanese mother

ended up utterly and completely

heartbroken.

I tried to convince myself that this time, I was going to be wrong. That this time, I thought a boy who was Britannian

(like my father)

wasn't going to leave me for all the wrong reasons

and that somehow or another

since I loved him so very very much I thought nothing could go wrong.

He had the most brilliant purple eyes

a cool logic tempered by a sharp intellect

a fiery sense of what was right and what was wrong

only seventeen and filled with so much potential

a boy who was so exquisitely made it would've taken your very breath away.

I loved Lelouch Lamperouge for all of these reasons.

Which is why it was especially hard to watch him die

while everybody else

stoned him with their piercing eyes and sharp tongues. He was evil! Tyrannical! A demon!

"He deserved to be murdered by Zero!"

They didn't know that he had cared for his blind and crippled sister before anyone else knew they were of royal blood

They didn't know that everything he cared about was torn away from him

They didn't know that he felt _sorry_ that he had killed myriads of people whose faces he would never meet

I loved him for these things.

I loved him because he was Zero and he was brave and a tactical genius and without him

I was nothing.

A moment, a love, a dream, a laugh

(a kiss)

all gone. Nothing.

Kouzaki Kallen was nothing without Lelouch Lamperouge.

If there was one thing I said was impossible to execute it would have been

true love

because my true love

was dead

and took my heart from me.

* * *

**Poem Two** - _Life inside a music box ain't easy_

I go to school and say hi

and wave to people I know

and I try to pretend that life right now

(life without _him_, I mean)

is okay.

I pretend that I'm okay and when I see what I used to be

I pretend that I'm better off without

it.

No dangling on the edge of death

No excitement from battle

No thrill from the pleasure of fighting

No one knows how good it really was back then.

Hell, I thought me being a good pilot wasn't _that_ special.

Where did it go?

I miss it.

* * *

**Poem Three **- _I think someone knows me_

It might be possible that

a boy

or a man

or possibly frenemy

(friend and enemy)

shares more in common with me than the rest of six billion people in this world.

In Ashford Academy, it was considerably narrowed to a few thousand students.

No, it wasn't as much as a "Hello" or "Hey, what's up?"

but more of a shoved his way into my life.

I was too tired to resist him - either way no one would have replaced Lelouch.

I've probably heard it all -

the cheesiest, most cliche pickup lines.

Men looked at me superficially in their lust and

I hated that.

Lelouch wasn't any different, I now realized

I was just a tactical tool.

Not a person with emotions.

Maybe when I kissed him he would have reacted

but then we were too far apart.

I still loved him.

When I looked into Gino Weinberg's eyes,

he somehow understood without me telling anything.

Even if he called out, "Hey beautiful!"

Even if he flirted and joked with me.

He knew that I wasn't the same person after Lelouch died.

I wonder why?

* * *

**Poem Four **-_ Need Some Sleep_

I finally broke down

I envied Ohgi's happiness in my hands

and it was proving to be elusive

like the Lancelot when you were trying to land some kill shots on him.

I sat on the bench the first time Lelouch asked me about the Shinjuku Ghetto

and I couldn't help it

Somewhere in my heart, something cried out

for anger against someone who caused so much pain.

Yes, I loved him.

But I was sick of how much time and desperation

(and anguish)

that was lavished over his dead body.

I was angry at...

_myself_.

And that surprised me.

Because generally I didn't make too many tactical mistakes out on the battlefield

I was too good for that

But when it came to love

and things of the feminine nature

I was clueless.

Maybe someday

I would figure out why

I loved Lelouch Lamperouge

other than his bright eyes and his cool logic and his admirable sense of morality.

* * *

**Peom Five** - _Holding Out For a Hero_

Between Gino Weinberg -

who I admit is good looking,

sweetly obnoxious,

attentive,

kind,

and a master of his own Knightmare,

it should have been an easy choice for me.

But when he asked me out on a date

I said no.

I think I still believed at that time that I was still

in a stalemate with myself.

And besides, he was a White Knight, decked in shining armor -

how did he ever get entangled in the charms

of the Ace

of Black Knights?

* * *

**Poem Six** - _Who I Am Hates Who I've Been_

He faltered.

It gave no little satisfaction to me

to see somebody of nobility

have to deal with "No" for an answer.

But then I saw

the look in his beautiful eyes

and it floored me to realize

that he never expected me to say

"Yes."

In the end

I was the bigger fool

for not taking a risk.

I went to bed later

and I tore up one perfect photograph

of Lelouch with a careless smile

the one that kept hooking me back

to memories of the time

where I worshipped his every move.

* * *

**Poem Seven** - _Misery Business_

He gave me flowers on Christmas Eve.

I never received flowers before, not from boys at least.

They didn't care to learn my birthday or the things that I was interested in.

It was a lovely arrangement

with roses and tulips and bluebonnets

flowers not seen at this time of year, where the snow set in

and we were bundled in thick warm blazers and scarves.

"Do you like them?" he asked.

I smiled.

"Yeah."

"Good. I'm glad you like them."

Then he walked away.

"Hey wait!" I said.

He turned back, as if he was annoyed.

"I'm sorry about yesterday."

He raised his eyebrow.

"You're sorry that you rejected me,

or you're sorry that yesterday happened?"

It was hard to believe

these cold words coming from his mouth.

But I knew what it was like

to be in his position.

I couldn't say anything

those flowers protected him from guilt.

"Why couldn't you have told me that

you liked someone else?"

I should have told him

about the Lelouch the public eye never got to see.

The Lelouch who would put his jacket on my cold shoulders

and somehow depended on me, Q-1,

for everything.

Instead, I only said,

"I don't know."

And then closed the door.

* * *

**Poem Eight **- _Never Let This Go_

It somehow ended up

tender

soft

things I'd never experience

or expect to experience, for that matter.

As soon as I closed the door, I knew it was a mistake

to say no a second time.

Wait.

No, stop! Come back.

I can't do this by myself alone.

And I saw that wallowing in my pity

would be worse

than taking a risk

even if it might end up the same way.

Gino Weinberg wasn't Lelouch Lamperouge.

And I would have done both a disservice

if I pretended if he was the other.

I put on a warm jacket,

followed the footsteps that he tramped on the clean fresh snow,

and tried to rehearse what I wanted to say.

Would it be prudent to say

"I like you, but I used to like this other guy who's now dead and forgotten -

or something vomit-inducing such as

"Please come back to me?"

It didn't matter because as soon as he turned his head,

my head was empty.

I could have said

"I was sorry that I had to screw you over."

"I was sorry that I had to lie to you."

"I was sorry that I couldn't be brave enough to say that

the person I liked would have been ashamed to see me like this."

"I was sorry that I was being a pathetic excuse for a human being."

But instead I said,

"Can we start over?" in a weak, childish voice.

"I know that I've been

selfish

feeling guilty for myself

and stupid.

But I can be better than that.

The girl you saw before me

was the one you liked.

I can be her again

if you let me."

And then he said

"You mean it?"

Because he knew by now

I was a good liar.

"Yes, I do," I said and looked him in the eye

even though I was nervous.

I just wanted somebody to believe in me.

Regardless of the things I did.

He didn't say anything at first,

his hair flying in the sharp wind

and then asked,

"What happened to the guy you liked?"

"Everything," I said. "He died."

His voice was sympathetic now. "I figured."

"How would you know?"

"Every person who's lost someone has a raw look to them."

And that was it.

Except for the part where he kissed me

in the snowfall.

_-le fini_


End file.
